“Could this kill me?”
“Possibly in combination with alcohol, dehydration or a fall.”
I thought of the yacht.
Stairs.
Water.
Deck rails.
That did not feel accidental.
Mara drew blood.
Then said:
“He also asked me whether prolonged sedation could create temporary memory gaps.”
Cold moved through me.
“What did you say?”
“I asked why.”
“And?”
“He laughed.”
I stared at the floor.
The captain wanted to turn the Mercer Star toward the nearest public harbor immediately.
I refused for another reason now.
If Adrian intended to do more than make me sick, we needed proof.
Not suspicions.
Not a medical log he could blame on clerical mistakes.
So I returned to our suite.
Adrian was awake.
Sitting on the edge of the bed.
He looked concerned.
Of course.
“Where were you?”
I leaned against the doorway deliberately.
“Bathroom.”
“For thirty minutes?”
“I got lost.”
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